


Schroedinger’s Fetish

by ZiGraves



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, M/M, Rope Bondage, Violet Wand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:58:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZiGraves/pseuds/ZiGraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for <a href="http://kinkvale.tumblr.com">kinkvale</a> on tumblr, in response to some prompts about exhibitionism and webcam shows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schroedinger’s Fetish

**Author's Note:**

> The following contains: the traffic light safeword system, use of a violet wand, exhibitionism via webcam, rope bondage.

Indulging in exhibitionism without an observer is an interesting challenge to be handed.

It was an interesting challenge, particularly, which had been plaguing Carlos for a week since Cecil had mentioned that he perhaps a little bit got off on being watched, but had then immediately blushed and clarified that he really liked the idea, he just hated being actually looked at by people who weren’t his partner, and he wanted to, but… Carlos was starting to think of it as Schroedinger’s Fetish.

How to allow Cecil to be simultaneously observed and unseen so as to indulge his kink without collapsing the waveform into a flat reality of seen or unseen? How to let him show off without turning into a blushing mess or losing the illusion without an audience?

It took the entirety of a week for him to realise, and he was very pleased with himself that he refrained from any traditionally scientific eruption of “Eureka!” when the solution finally presented itself at work. Cecil, on the radio in the background, was going into an alarming degree of detail about some terrible occurrence down on Main Street and Ouroboros. Rochelle, as far away from the radio as possible, was waving her arms energetically as she attempted to describe via Skype the really fascinating new variety of finch they’d discovered and the really fascinating new way it had of using nuts and seeds to lure other finches into cunning traps. Her colleague back in Tulsa wasn’t quite visible from the angle of the laptop. Seen and unseen. Observed without a direct presence.

Telepresence.

Yes.

He may have resisted the impulse to cry “Eureka!”, but he was pretty sure that no one had noticed his tiny little fist-pump as he found the solution. All that remained was to test it.

——

Carlos fidgeted with the webcam and laptop again, checking its view of the room, then returned to lean over Cecil where he knelt on the floor.

"Remember, sweetheart, they are right there. Watching. Listening. They can’t be here - I won’t let anyone else be here to touch you, you’re just mine, all mine, sweetheart, but they’re watching. And they might even have a few suggestions." Carlos petted over Cecil’s hair, over his collar and down his back, slow strokes to accompany soft, murmured words. A little bit of forethought resulted in Carlos wearing a mask, just in case anyone he knew back Outside might happen across the stream and recognise him. A little bit more forethought left Cecil wearing nothing at all other than his collar - a mask would so easily have turned into a blindfold, and Cecil’s eyes were a better gauge of his mental state than his voice was, after a certain point. Cecil, at least, was not known to the wider world beyond Night Vale. He was safe from academic nosiness, bare faced and still anonymous.

"You understand me, sweetheart? Nod for yes, don’t speak yet. You understand that it’s just me in the room with you, but everyone else out there is watching? It’s because you’re beautiful. They want to see. They want to watch how beautiful you are, how good you are."

Cecil nodded, whining softly in the back of his throat when Carlos’ hands stopped petting and lifted away from his shoulders. He didn’t move, but his eyes tracked Carlos’ path across to the toybox just outside the camera, widened when Carlos came back with his hands full of neatly plaited braids of rope. One of them came loose with a good shake, the bight marked with a vividly purple dye that Carlos had let Cecil choose as a special treat. It was his favourite rope, soft and comfortable, and his wrists were up and ready almost before Carlos had finished asking.

Carlos smiled.

"That’s my good, eager boy. Look at you, all ready to get tied up," he chuckled, wrapping the rope over and around into thick cuffs. He tugged them this way and that with the tails of the rope in one hand, testing the give and making quite sure that Cecil wouldn’t come loose, then smiled again and ran his free hand through Cecil’s hair. Cecil leaned into the touch, beaming.

"Up, now. On your feet," Carlos said, lifting the rope for Cecil to follow. He looped the tails of the rope over a solid metal hook in the ceiling, tied the ends down around Cecil’s cuffs to give him a little something more to hang onto. Cecil was stretched tall, right onto his toes, exposed and sweetly vulnerable, eyes wide and dark as they flickered between Carlos and the camera - and the screen, under the camera, where colourful lines of text showed people connecting to watch.

His eyes leapt back to Carlos at the ticklish touch of fingertips along his bare side.

"That’s your audience. They’re all there just to watch you, so you’re going to make sure they get a good show, aren’t you?" Carlos prompted. Cecil nodded vigorously, chewing on his lip to bite back his impulse to speak, and Carlos smiled at him again. "You will. You’re my good boy, my sweetheart, and I know how much fun you’re going to have showing off. Are you green for me? Say it."

"Green, Sir. Very green," Cecil breathed, barely enough to be picked up by the camera’s microphone. The screen flickered with an immediate response, lighting up at his voice.

"The rules are very easy for you today. You don’t speak unless it’s a safe word, but you can make as much noise as you want. Otherwise… you just let me take care of everything. You’re all mine. All you have to do is let me take care of you, and everyone will watch you and love you. Though not as much as I do."

Cecil nodded, licking dry lips, and made a soft noise of anticipation when he saw what Carlos had brought out and was plugging into the wall. Carlos’ hand drifted over a velvet-lined case full of delicate glass instruments, selecting a slim tube. It crackled, buzzing, lit up bright electric blue-purple. The sound of it was louder than Cecil’s soft sigh.

The glass passed just above Cecil’s skin, down the underside of his bicep. Sparks jumped over the gap between glass and skin, causing Cecil to jump and twitch and fight between the need to lean in for more and the instinct to flinch away. The tube continued down, sparking sharply at any part of Cecil that got close enough, tickling over his ribs until Cecil was gasping and squirming. He keened, low and pleading, even as his fingers clenched and unclenched on the ropes and he wriggled where he was held. The sparks stopped, the crackling abruptly silent, and Cecil hung panting from the suspension point.

"More?" Carlos asked, calmly unscrewing the first tube and making a show of looking for the next.

Cecil’s nod was accompanied by a deep, hungry whine that made the viewers’ comments on the computer screen flash up too fast to track. Cecil saw nothing of it, eyes locked to Carlos, but Carlos noticed the reactions and picked up a black glove with curiously silvery fingertips. A “please” very nearly escaped Cecil’s lips before he bit down on it. It was enough for Carlos to give him a light tap on the backside, a gentle remonstration and a reminder of his place. Cecil looked away, quietened immediately, and that was enough in turn for the hand on his ass to settle, warm and forgiving, for just a moment.

Then Carlos had the glove on and the velvet lined box was crackling again, and Carlos stood up, hand outstretched…

The sparks leapt over greater distances, jumping from fingertips to twitching skin and leaving faint, pinkish traces of their passing like the tiniest hints of a burn. Cecil groaned, arching onto the very tips of his toes, when Carlos trailed a single finger all the way down his spine and then up to the nape of his neck, pushing through his hair with his whole hand crackling and buzzing. The ozone smell in the air was thick and heady, and Cecil was hard and helpless, unable to thrust against anything no matter how his hips bucked when Carlos’ hand traced patterns on the jut of his hip-bones.

Carlos leaned in, a few clear inches away from the sparks being able to bridge the gap from Cecil back to him, but near enough that Cecil could feel his breath against his ear.

"They love you. You’re beautiful, you’re so beautiful, and you’re all mine. Mine to show off, and mine to touch, and no one else gets that… but they can look. They love looking at you. They want so much that they can’t have, sweetheart, but there’s one thing you can do for them, for your audience - and for me, too, most of all." Carlos let it hang just long enough that he saw Cecil almost ready to break his one rule and speak, then went on. "Be loud, sweetheart. I love hearing you. And everyone watching, they’ll love it, too. They do already. They love your voice. Give it to them."

His gloved hand slid down, passing too far away to bring about the sharp sting that Cecil craved now. Cecil was quite still, quivering gently, breath held as he waited…

The sparks leapt from silvered fingertips to the sensitive inside of Cecil’s bare thigh and he all but yowled, loud and sharp and already spreading his legs wider for more after that first split-second flinching reaction. There was more than just a hint of display about the way he cocked his hips, leaning toward Carlos and the camera both.

On Carlos went, switching up the glove for a pinwheel that pricked and bit as it sparked, for a comb with blue lightning leaping from each tooth, for a soft brush that buzzed with a barely visible storm in its bristles. There were soft, barely visible, reddened lines on Cecil’s pulse points and on every sensitive surface of his skin that Carlos could reach without kneeling. Cecil was almost limp in his ropes, hanging more of his weight from the ceiling hook than he trusted to his wobbling knees, and finally his moans took on the plaintive note of overstimulation. He had not spoken a single word but for a repeat of “ _Green_ ” when Carlos prompted him.

"That’s my good boy, my sweetheart," Carlos murmured, switching off the crackling box at last. "And you have been so good, so wonderful."

He stood behind Cecil, leaving the camera’s view uninterrupted and allowing Cecil to lean back on him. His hands stroked gently down Cecil’s ribs and elicited an oversensitive little jump, which stilled when Carlos’ hands found their way further down. One hand gently cradled Cecil’s stiff cock, sticky with glistening precum at the head, and the other reached down to cup his balls with the same careful delicacy. Cecil whined, pushing into his hands.

"There now, there. You should see yourself. You look so good. No one can keep their eyes off you, and you’ve done so well." Carlos nuzzled against his shoulder. Not quite a kiss, not yet, but it pulled a wretchedly adoring little moan out of Cecil all the same. Carlos’ hands moved, tightening, and the moan deepened, pleading when Carlos only teased at first. He stroked slowly, holding Cecil and supporting him as more and more of Cecil’s weight leaned on Carlos and the ropes.

Cecil’s voice had been reduced to nothing more than rough panting with desperate, begging inflections by the time Carlos finally sped his hand up. When he managed to raise his head, Cecil saw the green blink of the camera light and the vague scrawls of text on the screen - his audience. Watching him. Carlos had invited all those people just to watch _him_ , just to see _him_ shuddering and wordless and hanging from the ceiling, and they were right _there_ -

He came, shivering and jerking, loud and then silent as his voice caught in his throat right at the peak of his orgasm. Then there was only the sound of the rope creaking and the soft drip on the floor of sweat and come, and there was Carlos easing him down from the suspension point, chafing his wrists and hands back to warmth, draping a blanket over him… the camera went off at some point while Carlos was bustling around to fetch juice and chocolate for the inevitable come-down, and wipes to mop up the mess before Cecil collapsed into it.

Carlos kissed him, then, just the two of them at the end of it all, and Cecil smiled muzzily up from his blankets.

"All done," Carlos promised. "Did you like it? We’re all done, you can talk now."

"Mm. That was… that was clever," Cecil sighed. "Clever Carlos… You’re good to me."

Carlos smiled back and mopped at his brow, where sweat was beading despite the onset of shivers. Later they would review the comments from the stream, and Cecil would see exactly where Carlos had been showing him off for the viewers, and would shiver and sigh all over again. For now, though, he sipped at the fruit juice Carlos offered him, and rested a hand on his collar. All those people had gotten to see, and only Carlos got to be present.

And that felt like the right balance.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this and fancy a chat some time, my tumblr username is [zigraves](http://zigraves.tumblr.com) \- feel free to stop by and say hello.


End file.
